


Tumblr Prompts

by bleebug



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Captain Cobra - Freeform, F/M, Gen, Tumblr Prompts, assorted, winter prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-23
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-09-19 12:20:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 8,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9440243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleebug/pseuds/bleebug
Summary: This is where I'll be posting the collection of Tumblr prompts I receive. Ratings range from G to M and most are typically less than 1k.





	1. Winter Prompt: Killian discovers marshmallows

**swansorceress** asked: Okay so for a winter themed prompt I was thinking something like Killian learning what marshmallows are after Emma puts them in his hot chocolate? idk it just randomly came to mind because i love me some confused Hook

 

* * *

 

 

Killian was never very fond of sweets but Emma had managed to turn him onto those nice, steaming mugs of hot chocolate with a dash of cinnamon to spice them up. Every time she grabbed one at Granny’s he always got one for himself as well. He wasn’t sure what it was about them that struck his fancy. Perhaps it was just that it was his beloved’s favorite.

(Or maybe it was that a spot of rum made the sweetness more palatable, and it burned pleasantly as it slid down his throat and into his stomach.)

Now that they’re living together, though, he finds that Emma’s version of the drink doesn’t come with a dollop of whipped cream on top. Instead it comes with a handful of tiny, white…

“Marshmallows?”

He raises a brow and eyes the little lumps floating in his drink warily. They look kind of gross as they roll in the chocolate and begin to melt and merge with each other.

“Yeah, marshmallows. They’re like… soft, squishy sugar pillows that you eat.”

“Is that supposed to make them sound more appetizing, Swan?”

She rolls her eyes at him and takes a sip of her own, sighing contentedly as the spicy chocolate hits her tongue. When she draws her mug away, Killian’s gaze lands on her upper lip, where the melted confectionary has left a foamy white streak. She deliberately licks it away slowly, her tongue gliding from one end of her lip to the other before slipping back into her mouth.

Killian swallows audibly. No matter how much time passes, he’s really very sure he will never _not_  be completely under this woman’s thumb.

“Well? Are you gonna try it or not?”

He chuckles, though the sound of his voice is hoarse and possibly a bit trembly, and lifts his mug, taking a considerable mouthful of his drink. It’s too hot, but the burn on his tongue is nothing compared to the burn in his blood as he watches Emma watch him.

Honestly, he doesn’t care for the taste or texture of these marshmallows, but he finds that it’s really hard to voice a complaint when Emma leans forward to lick the remnants away from his own lips.


	2. Winter Prompts: Emma's car gets stuck in snow

**Anonymous** asked: Emma's car is stuck on the side of the road, tires wedged deep in the snow, and no one is stopping to help. The bug is old and keeps stalling out, making it impossible to sit inside with the heat on. She could call David, but he's probably asleep by now.

 

* * *

 

 

Ugh, she _knew_  she should have put on those damn tire chains. But it was just supposed to be a quick trip to the store, barely twenty minutes roundtrip from her apartment, and she had been desperate enough for brownie mix that she thought it would be worth the risk.

Apparently not.

Not only did she hit black ice and veer off the road into a thick patch of snow, but _now,_ of all times, her car decides that it’s just had enough of her shit and won’t start up again.

There have been maybe a handful of cars on the road since she got stuck and absolutely none of them seemed the least bit interested in pulling over to help. It pisses her off, but, she thinks, if she were in their shoes, she probably wouldn’t brave the cold and the flurry of snow at close to midnight to help a stranger, either.

She softly hits her forehead against the steering wheel, jerking when she accidentally honks the horn. She could call a tow-truck, but her pockets are kind of empty at the moment and she’s not sure she’s willing to poke holes in them just to get her home.

And she _could_  call David. But as much as she loves her brother to death, she can’t deal with the inevitable lecture she’d get for doing something so reckless. Besides, she’s pretty sure he’s sleeping at this hour and considering the fact that Mary Margaret is about two weeks away from giving birth, she assumes he needs to get all the rest he can while that’s still possible.

She could just get out and start walking… But when she’d left the safety of her car to assess the damage, she barely managed to stand the cold for a few minutes. There’s a possibility she’d get hypothermia long before she made it home.

Which leaves her with only one option: her handsome, ridiculous neighbor.

“To what do I owe this immense pleasure, love?”

She reels in her dissatisfied groan, sighing as she presses the phone to her ear.

“Killian, hi. I… need a favor.”

“Oh?” She can almost see the smug little smirk on his stupid, perfect face and she doesn’t know which is harder: fighting off the butterflies in her stomach or the urge to reach through the phone to slap him upside the head. “A favor for my dear Swan in the middle of the night? Sounds… _exciting_.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not.” She huffs, using the heat from her breath to warm her hands up as she holds her phone up with her shoulder. “I may or may not be slowly freezing to death on the side of the road.”

She’d meant for it to come off a bit more lighthearted and joking, but clearly her nervous laughter wasn’t easing the delivery, and Killian flips immediately from flirty and teasing to concerned.

“Gods, love, what happened? Are you all right?”

“Uh, I kinda slid off the road and into some snow. I’m fine, really. Just cold. The Bug won’t start, so I can’t even try to back out of this mess.”

“Where are you? I’m on my way.”

It’s somehow both surprising and totally _not_  surprising that he decides to come rescue her with barely a moment’s notice. Despite his arrogance and flirtatious personality, she knows he’s a good guy. They’re… friends. Sort of. If tossing insults at him while he deflects and makes inappropriate comments on a regular basis counts as friendship.

(But they do text a lot, even when they haven’t spoken for weeks, so that has to count for something.)

After giving him her location, she hangs up and leans back in the driver’s seat, bouncing her legs and rubbing her hands together to try and keep warm. It’s not working as well as she hoped it would. Her nose begins to run and she just sniffles constantly as she draws her legs up onto the seat, wrapping her arms around them and curling away from the tiny rush of cold wind that seeps through some unseen opening in the car door.

She waits fifteen minutes before Killian’s car pulls up beside hers. He doesn’t bother pulling off the road, just flashes his lights to let her know he’s there. She grabs her box of brownie mix (because she refuses to let this trip be all for nothing) and squeaks when she opens the door, the wind chilling straight through her clothes and prickling painfully against her skin. It takes her about ten big steps to get to his car, then she finally opens the side door and practically collapses into the passenger seat.

And, _oh_ , she thinks she might be in love with him because he’s got freaking _seat warmers_.

“All right, love?”

“I am now. Jesus.” Her hands go to the air vent and she turns to him with a grin. “Thanks for the rescue. Thought I’d lose a few fingers to frostbite.”

“It’s no problem.” He carefully presses on the gas, doing much better at navigating the icy roads than she did. “Full offense, love, but what the hell were you thinking driving in this?”

“Says the guy who’s driving in this?”

“To save your sorry arse, yeah. Couldn’t very well let you die, now, could I? I hate getting new neighbors.” She can’t help but laugh, but he glances away from the road just long enough to give her an exasperated look. “Come on, why were you out in this? Can’t be work, can it?”

“No…” She shrugs even though she knows he isn’t looking at her. “Brownies?”

“Explain.”

“What’s there to explain? I wanted brownies and I didn’t have stuff to make them.”

“… So, you went to the store.”

“Yep.”

“At midnight. In what is slowly becoming a blizzard.”

“I concede that it wasn’t the best plan.”

“Bloody hell, Emma. You could have gotten yourself hurt! Or worse!”

“Ugh, _please_. I specifically called you and not David so I _wouldn’t_  get the lecture. I get it. I messed up. So let’s move on, shall we?”

He shakes his head as if he just can’t believe her stupidity, and she crosses her arms and leans back into the warm seat, turning her gaze out the window. They remain silent for the rest of the drive.

By the time they get to their apartment, thankfully in one piece, Emma’s had enough time to reflect and she can’t help but feel apologetic. He traveled through icy conditions just to come get her and she’s kind of treating him like garbage.

Killian leaves the car before she does, and she scrambles to catch up with him as he walks up the stairs to their floor.

“Killian, wait. I’m sorry, okay?” He sighs and turns to her before he even gets his keys into the door. “I know you’re mad, but I just… thanks. For coming to get me. You didn’t have to.”

He stares at her for a long moment, his gaze darting between her eyes several times, and it makes her feel nervous and exposed. After a moment, he looks away, down at the ground, and scratches at the scruff on his cheek.

“I’m not mad. I was never mad, Emma. I was _worried_. I know you’re this strong, amazing, independent woman, and you can take care of yourself, but sometimes, just, please, spare a thought for those who care about you, aye?”

She grips the box of brownie mix, feeling a strange mix of shame at her actions and warmth at Killian’s almost-confession.

Not many people have cared about Emma or her wellbeing. And to count Killian among them is actually… kind of amazing. And not nearly as terrifying as it could be.

“And that… includes you?”

Killian rolls his eyes and regains that all too familiar smirk, stepping forward into her personal space. He glances down at her lips and she finds herself licking them unconsciously, maybe in anticipation.

“Aye, love. Surely it can’t be that much of a surp-”

She doesn’t remember dropping the box. Or grabbing the lapels of his coat. Or dragging him down to her level. She’s not sure how it happened.

But when she feels him kissing her back, she knows she’s in deep, deep shit.

She pulls away, only far enough to break their lips from each other, and they hover there for a moment, breaths puffing heavily between them.

“Emma… that was…”

Her hands fall away and she shakes herself free from the moment, reaching down to grab the discarded brownie mix.

“A thank you,” she finishes for him, flashing him a smirk that’s much more confident than she feels. She fumbles for her keys and unlocks her door, looking back at him one more time. He looks completely dumbstruck, still standing in the same place she kissed him. “For caring.”

An hour later, she debates with herself for a full ten minutes before grabbing the plate of freshly baked brownies and crossing the hall to his apartment. It’s worth it all, she thinks, just to see the way his face lights up.


	3. Winter Prompts: CS and their kids playing in the snow

**ahsagitarius** asked: Hi! For the winter themed prompt: CS and their kid(s) playing in the snow, please? Thank you! :D

 

* * *

 

 

“All right, this is just ridiculous.”

Emma glances up from her book and watches her husband lift the couch cushions beside her.

“What, you still haven’t found it?”

“No, I bloody haven’t. You haven’t seen it, have you?”

“Babe, if I’d seen it, I would tell you. Where did you last take it off?”

“In our room, I thought. Maybe in the bathroom before I showered. I can’t remember. But I’ve been looking for nearly half an hour now and it’s just nowhere, love.”

A burst of giggles filters in from outside, and Emma smiles as she looks out the window into their backyard where Henry, Charlotte, and Riley are tossing snowballs at each other. Henry is an adult now, just home for the holidays before he’s back off to college, but it warms her heart how well he gets along with his sisters.

A glimmer of light flickers from something behind Henry and when he moves and the object becomes visible, Emma covers her mouth to stifle a laugh.

“Killian?” He hums distractedly as he opens and closes kitchen cabinets. “I think I found what you’re looking for.”

“What? Where?”

She nods toward the window and he turns, sighing heavily when he sees what she does. Their children had built a rather interesting looking snowman, one wearing a familiar long leather coat, an eyepatch, and, unsurprisingly, Killian’s hook to finish off the whole ensemble.

“Those little thieves.”

“Well they are _our_  children.”

The two of them share a look and Emma snaps her book closed before making her way to the back door with her husband, only sparing a moment to pull on coats and shoes. As soon as they step foot outside, they launch into a full out attack on the mischievous trio, hurling snowballs as they run to the snowman to retrieve his stolen appendage.

“No, Daddy! You’re gonna ruin Captain Snow-Hook!” Riley yelps, tossing a snowball with poor accuracy before hiding behind Henry.

“Oi, why does your Captain Snow-Hook have an eyepatch? Not very accurate!” he shouts back, unashamedly using Emma as a human shield so he can retrieve his hook.

“He’s not supposed to be _you_ , Dad! He’s Captain _Snow-Hook!_ ”

“Ah, of course, how could I mix the two up?”

Emma gets hit directly in the face by one of Charlotte’s snowballs and she falls dramatically to the ground just as Killian is reattaching his hook.

“Emma!” he gasps, playing her game and collapsing to his knees beside her, cradling her in his arms. “Oh, I’m so sorry, love. I’ve left you to the wolves! A hook is not worth all this pain!”

“Mama!” While Charlotte and Henry are old enough to see straight through their ruse and roll their eyes at their behavior, Riley is not. She comes barreling over and leans down to pat her hand on Emma’s head. “Mama, are you okay?”

It takes but a moment for Emma to wrap her arms around their daughter and drag her down, pressing a loud, smacking kiss to her cheek. Killian follows suit and soon they have a very giggly, squirming child between them.

Henry and Charlotte both brush the snow off their pants and coats and come over, both breathing heavily from the exertion of their playing.

“Oi, so whose idea was it to steal their father’s hook, hm? Bad form,” Killian says, raising a brow at them all.

But none of them confess, nor do they give away the culprit.

“Aw, come on,” Henry shrugs, turning his attention to his sisters. “Captain Snow-Hook needed it, right?”

Riley and Charlotte both nod in agreement and Emma pats Killian on the back.

“Guess you’re just gonna have to keep track of your hook if you don’t want some snowman taking it, huh?”

His tongue rolls over his teeth as he gives her a half-hearted glare that makes her laugh.

They all make their way back inside, leaving wet shoes and coats at the door and crowding in the living room by the fireplace.

Riley settles in Killian’s lap and he gently uses his hook to brush away a clump of wet hair matted against her cheek.

“Sorry, Daddy. It was my idea,” she mutters, leaning her head against his chest. “I wanted the snowman to be just like you.”

He smiles and kisses her forehead, running his fingers through her hair. Emma nudges her toes underneath his thigh and Charlotte curls into her side. Henry prods the logs in the fireplace with the poker, glancing back at his family with a grin.

“Oh, I forgive you, darling. He did look rather dashing, I admit.”


	4. Winter Prompts: Snowed in

**Anonymous** asked: Winter prompt: snowed in

****Rated M****

 

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She shouldn’t be so happy about the massive blizzard plaguing their little town, but she _is_. There isn’t any work to be done today. There’s no villains running amok, no break-ins, no stupid paperwork to be done… _nothing_.

Three and a half feet of snow is the best damn gift she’s ever been given over the holidays. (Not that she has a lot to compare it to.)

Killian’s rough facial hair scratches against her shoulder and neck as his tongue laves over the dark spot he’d just sucked onto the base of her neck. His hand is on her bare breast beneath her sleep shirt, her fingers grasping his wrist to hold it there, and she can feel every inch of him pressed up against her back.

“You know,” she gasps, biting at her lower lip, “this blizzard is supposed to last several days. We may get another foot of snow.”

Killian hums, kneading her soft flesh with his palm and rolling his hips against her backside. His teeth graze her shoulder as his knee nudges between her legs. She grips his wrist tighter and heaves a breathy sigh.

“ _Days_ , hm?” he drawls, his thumb sliding back and forth across her nipple as if he were strumming her like a fucking instrument. He kisses his way up her neck and she releases his wrist in favor of reaching up to tangle her fingers in his messy hair, rolling to the side just enough so that his final kiss lands across her lips. His sleepy, half-lidded grin when he pulls away makes her heart stutter. “What could we-” He deliberately rolls his hips again. “- _possibly_  do for _days_  stuck at home?”

Her laugh is low and hoarse, too turned on to care how she sounds, and she lets him go, sliding her hand down her side, her fingers dipping below the hem of her panties. Killian’s eyes grow darker and she gasps when his short fingernails graze down her breast and across her ribs. His hand settles low on her hip and she lets him help her tug down the small scrap of fabric.

“I guess we’ll just have to stay in bed.”


	5. Winter Prompts: Emma shows Killian her favorite Christmas movie

**captainswanismyendgame** asked: If you're still doing it, babe...winter themed: Emma showing Killian her fave Christmas movie(s)

 

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“Whoa, whoa. Wait a minute. I’m confused.”

“What?”

Emma paused the movie and turned to him, eyebrow raised. His brows were scrunched together and he looked back and forth between her and the still image on the screen.

“I thought we were watching your favorite Christmas movie, love.”

“We are.”

“But… I mean, I suppose I was expecting something more like… what we watched with your family the other day. What was it? Miracle on some street or another? The story of Christmas?”

“Miracle on 34th Street and A Christmas Story,” she corrected.

“Right. Those. Aren’t Christmas movies supposed to be light-hearted and family-friendly?”

“Typically, yeah.”

“But they just murdered that man at the counter. How is this a ‘Christmas’ movie? Seems rather dark.”

Emma chuckled and leaned back into the couch, shrugging.

“When I was a kid, Christmas movies weren’t really my thing, cause, well, I never really had a normal Christmas. No presents under the tree, no hanging up lights with my family, no joyous celebrations.” She sighed and stared down at her nails, eyeing the sad-looking state of her cuticles, all cracked and red thanks to the cold, dry winter weather. “So all these happy movies where kids got to learn about the importance of family or where Santa came and gave them everything they could ever wish for… at some point, it just felt insulting. They gave me and probably lots of other kids false hope at the worst time of year for kids without homes.”

Killian reached over and brushed his fingertips along her knuckles and she turned her palm up so their fingers could weave themselves together.

“I’m sorry, love. I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“It’s fine. Anyway, this movie came out when I was like five, but I watched it for the first time when I was ten, I think? It was Christmas Eve and my foster family was asleep and I just snagged the first R-rated VHS on the shelf and watched it in the living room.” Laughter bubbled up from her throat and Killian smiled softly. “I was totally shocked when I watched it. I mean, it was so violent! And intense! And I was glued to their small little TV the whole time.

“So, it might not be the cheeriest Christmas movie, but after that night it became my favorite. And I started a tradition where I’d watch it every year when the holidays rolled around.”

“Ah, so… I’m sharing in a true Emma Swan Christmas tradition, am I? I’m honored.”

She leaned in and pecked him on the lips.

“Welcome to the party, pal,” she grinned.


	6. Winter Prompts: CS shops for Killian some winter apparel

**Anonymous** asked: Yo girl, are you still accepting winter prompts? Because I have cute images in my head of Emma taking Killian shopping for winter apparel. I'm talking like, a parka with fur around the hood, big, clunky boots, mitten... just one. All things he would find ridiculous. But Emma finds it absurd he just barely wears a jacket in the winter, and let's face it, Killian probably feels the cold a little more than his bravado lets on. :D

 

* * *

 

 

Emma rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time at the childish mutters and groans of protest coming from her idiot boyfriend. It wasn’t like she was forcing him to wear pretty pink ballgowns or, heaven forbid, a casual t-shirt instead of a fitted button-up.

“Stop complaining,” she huffed exasperatedly, snagging another thick scarf from the bin and turning so she could wrap it around his neck to see if it was worth the $30. It was; red looked way too good on him.

“Swan, I don’t need all this. I’m perfectly fine wearing my own clothes.”

“We’re getting a massive cold front next week,” she explained, tossing the item in their cart and rolling away towards the heavy winter coats. “It’s going to be snowing and dropping well into the negatives and you are not going to leave the house in nothing but a shirt and a thin leather jacket.”

“You know the cold doesn’t really bother me, love.“

“I know that it was ten degrees outside yesterday and your nipples could have cut glass.”

“Oi!” he whispered, his cheeks and ears turning pink as he flustered, looking around to make sure Emma’s comment hadn’t been overheard. “Say it a bit louder, won’t you?”

She chuckled to herself as she sifted through the puffer jackets.

“No,” he said, attempting to push her to a different section. “I’m not bloody putting on the wearable equivalent of a marshmallow.”

Emma elbowed him in the stomach and he recoiled, pointing a pitiful glare her way as she pulled a gray coat with white fur lining on the cuffs and around the hood from the rack. She held it out to him expectantly, and he didn’t bother to argue, instead just grumbling to himself as he wrapped himself in the comforter with sleeves.

He pouted the whole time and Emma beamed as she stepped forward to zip him in. He hated it. It was weird and it made too much noise when he made the smallest of movements, and it was just ridiculously large. He felt like a young lad wearing his father’s clothing. Emma tugged on the hood and pulled on the strings around it, pulling it tight against his head.

“There we go. See? Not so bad.”

She directed him to a mirror hanging on the side of a structure beam and if he’d hated the thing before, he didn’t know how on earth to describe the sincere loathing once he saw himself in it.

“I look ridiculous.”

“You look warm,” she corrected. “We’re getting it.”

“You can buy it, Swan, but I’m not going to wear it.”

Emma just hummed in response, and Killian huffed, knowing that she would get her way in the end. He removed the thing and tossed it in the cart, giving his love the side-eye when she smiled at him.

The rest of their shopping trip went quite similarly. First there was the introduction to knit beanies with pompoms, which, while Emma looked absolutely adorable in them, he was really very sure that he looked like an idiot who was wearing his girlfriend’s clothes. Then there was the thick mittens with patterns, then the awkward, bulky snow boots, then the tight, thermal undergarments that Killian wasn’t entirely sure were being bought for his own comfort. (That low twinkle in Emma’s eyes made the decision for him and he tossed several pairs in the cart just in case.)

By the time they left, Killian had an entire new winter wardrobe consisting of three pairs of gloves, mittens, five scarves, two hats, one pair of boots, a dozen pairs of thick winter socks, a handful of long underwear, and three new heavy coats – a puffer, a woolen peacoat, and a parka.

And a few days later when the temperature dropped and their furnace struggled to keep up, he found, huddled together at Granny’s Diner with the Charming family for warmth and good food, that he didn’t mind looking ridiculous when everyone else looked much the same.


	7. Winter Prompts: Captain Cobra Swan's first snow fight at their house

**optomisticgirl** asked: For the winter theme prompt - Captain Cobra + Captain Swan's first snow ball fight at their house in canon?

 

* * *

 

 

Life in Storybrooke is never really normal, but even with all the newcomers from the Land of Untold Stories still crowding Granny’s B&B, and the Evil Queen currently locked in a reptile cage in their basement, and the very recent death of that changeling meant to look like Belle’s son Gideon hanging over their heads, Henry still finds himself doing a lot of the things he did before the curse broke.

He still goes to school. He still reads through a new book every couple of days. He still helps his mom, Regina, clean dishes after dinner. He still groans when he’s told to do homework but does it anyway.

There are some new things too, though, that seem normal now. Violet’s kisses in the hallway at school, for one. He _really_  likes that normal. Playing video games with the one mom who doesn’t think that such things will “rot your brain, Henry.” Lunches at Granny’s with his grandparents. Afternoons sailing with Killian when the weather allows.

The weather has _not_  cooperated for the past few days, though, despite their plans. A cold front had blown through, bringing with it sleet and then nearly a foot of snow. Now it isn’t as if Killian couldn’t have sailed just fine through it, master captain that he is, but Emma was very firm in telling them both that they were to stay on land, where it’s at least _relatively_  safe – as safe as it can be in this town, anyway.

He protested at first, but he’s finding that spending the day at home in front of the lit fireplace and Netflix is a pretty freaking great alternative to freezing his ass off on the deck of the Jolly Roger.

(Although he could certainly deal with less of Killian and his mom trying to subtly make out on the couch when they think he’s not looking.)

He tears his eyes away from the TV screen, thankfully losing sight of their lip-lock from his periphery as he does so, and glances out the back window. It’s completely gray outside and the snow is still falling steadily as it has been for two days. He uses the coffee table as leverage to hoist himself up off the floor and on his feet, then makes his way over to see better.

His arms wrap around himself as he gets closer to the glass, the temperature dropping. They really need to get better insulation, he thinks.

“Henry? You all right?”

“Yeah, Mom. Just looking at all the snow.” He turns back to her with a grin. “You think school will be canceled on Monday?”

She rolls her eyes but smiles anyway, pushing away from Killian and the couch to join him. Her eyes seem to get a little brighter as they reflect the light from their snow-covered back yard.

She looks happy. It’s been a while since she’s looked happy.

“Yeah, kid. School might get canceled in this. We’ll see.”

“Yes!” he whispers. Maybe he can drop by Sir Morgan’s and see if Violet would be up for ice skating. Has she ever ice skated before? Probably not. He can’t wait to teach her, holding her hands and pulling her along behind him, or grasping her by the waist when her knees wobble and she can’t find her balance.

Ah, he’s getting a little ahead of himself.

Killian comes up behind them, slinging an arm around Emma’s waist and only briefly hesitating before tossing his other over Henry’s shoulders.

“Maybe we should go outside and enjoy the snow while it’s here,” Emma offers, and then Killian almost immediately pipes up in sing-song.

“Do you wanna build a snowma- oomph!” His obnoxious singing is interrupted by both Emma and Henry slapping the backs of their hands against his stomach. He pulls away from them both and covers the area, looking affronted. “You’re the ones that forced me to watch the damn thing in the first place, don’t complain now that I’ve got the songs stuck in my head.”

Ignoring his outburst, Henry pads away from them and over to the front door to grab his boots and pull his heavy coat off their coatrack. His mom and Killian follow along, and before he knows it, they’re all bundled up and stepping out into their backyard, where the snow has left a thick, pristine white layer over every surface.

Henry almost feels bad about stepping through it and destroying the image. It’s too pretty and perfect a landscape, pure in a way.

Then again, there’s something deeply satisfying about the soft crunch of fresh snow beneath his boots.

He pulls his gloves out from his coat pockets and tugs them on, then squats to grab a handful of snow, squishing it and molding it together before crushing it and letting all the pieces burst out from his palms. He repeats the process a few times, paying no mind to his company, as they are probably kissing beneath the gently falling snowflakes or something that would make him equally uncomfortable.

But then, _wham!_

Henry very nearly shrieks when his neck gets pelted with a snowball.

“What the hell!” he gasps, trying to brush away all the remnants of snow from his coat collar. He turns towards them and his eyes widen when he sees them both holding misshapen balls of snow in hand. Killian is smirking and raising one of those expressive brows and his mom is clearly trying not to laugh. Henry narrows his eyes and takes a couple steps backwards. “Oh, I see how it is. Gang up on the kid, huh?”

Killian chucks his first, and Henry stumbles to avoid it, nearly tripping through the thick snow that reaches his knees in the shallower parts of the yard. Emma’s comes after, hitting his side but not hard enough to do any damage.

He must be grinning now because his cheeks hurt a little, and he leans down to form his own weapons. He makes two and barely flinches when his leg is hit, then turns on them and hurls his heavily compacted snowballs back at them.

The first one hits Killian in the chest, and the second misses them both, but he considers it to be a huge success when Killian loses his balance and falls backwards into the snow with an audible _fwump,_  Emma bursts out laughing and leans over to help him up, but Henry uses that time to make himself a decent armful of snowballs.

He hits his mom first. His aim had been for her torso, but he miscalculated slightly and hit her neck and chin. There’s only a brief pause to make sure she’s okay before they continue.

Two-on-one becomes a free-for-all when Killian drops some snow down the back of his mom’s shirt. It’s fun and exciting to battle it out, but Henry and Emma have a distinct advantage over Killian; Henry always took for granted how convenient it was to have two hands to make a decent sized snowball.

The battle lasts all of ten minutes before they decide the chill and the exertion is too much, and they all go back inside to make fireplace s’mores and drink hot cocoa and watch that movie that lets Emma reminisce about her friend in Arendelle.

It’s so weird, Henry thinks. They have fun doing normal things that normal families do (and yeah, Killian is family now, even if he’s got no plans on ever calling him Dad or anything), as if there aren’t a ton of problems waiting for them once the snow melts. As if they don’t have to worry about what the next step is, the next villain, the next portal that will drag them into some new realm…

Henry likes doing normal things. It takes his mind off the burden of being the Author, and of being the Savior’s son, the Evil Queen’s son… It helps him feel more like himself.

And, well, when the abnormal stuff happens, he doesn’t really hate that either.


	8. Winter Prompts: Emma teaches Killian to ice skate

**justanotherwannabeclassic** asked: Prompt: Emma or Henry introduce Killian to ice skating.

 

* * *

 

 

Admittedly, Emma was excited to bring Killian ice skating for more than just the opportunity to share in a traditional winter pastime and act like they led a sort of, kind of normal life for a change.

She had a strange but urgent desire to just see Killian wobbling about across the ice, and to be the one to hold his hand and hook and pull him alongside her, to teach him the finer points of skating just as she’d taught a shy, awkward deckhand how to wield a blade in that damned alternate reality.

Because honestly, there was something oddly sexy about being in control, knowing things he didn’t. It wasn’t that she had some superiority kink or anything – or at least she didn’t _think_  she did; she’d have to deliberate on that at a later time – but she couldn’t help how giddy it made her feel to have the upper hand with him sometimes.

He’d lost to her on purpose during their sword fight back in the Enchanted Forest; she knew. His skills far surpassed her own with _those_  kinds of blades, but the ones she planned on making him balance on soon were more her area of expertise.

“Love, you know that I love you. But I’ve to admit, at this point I’m not sure that I _trust_ you.”

Emma just shook her head and laughed as she laced up, spying the stiff set of Killian’s shoulders from the corner of her eye. He looked entirely unsure of himself.

 _Perfect_.

“I promise, it’s gonna be fun,” she assured him, standing from the bench and adjusting the hat on her head so it came down further over her cold ears. She held her hand out expectantly and Killian let her pull him up. He wobbled forward, his left arm rotating in the air as he tried to balance. “I’ve been ice skating since I was a kid. It’s the one thing that I managed to convince most of my foster families to let me do when the weather cooled.”

Killian took a hesitant step forward at her urging, and Emma turned to hide her grin as he waddled behind her to the edge of the rink.

“Are you sure this is safe, Emma? Seems a bit…” He gestured vaguely, saying more in the curve of his frown than he could adequately relay in words.

“Of course it’s safe. Look at Henry!” She pointed to the middle of the rink where Henry was slowly, patiently teaching Violet how to move, staying close to the edges so she could hold on to the railing if she needed. “I wouldn’t let my son do this if I thought otherwise. Come on.”

Getting Killian onto the ice took a few minutes, but once he was there, Emma turned to him, hands holding both his hand and hook as she very slowly skated backwards.

The urge to kiss his face for all the nervous tension creasing his forehead was nearly unbearable, but she didn’t want to take his focus away and risk them both falling into a heap on the ice.

“Stop staring at your feet, babe. You have to look where you’re going.”

“You’re not,” he argued.

“I look back every few seconds to make sure I’m not gonna bump into someone, but I’ve been doing this for a lot longer than you have. Eyes up.”

He reluctantly complied but almost immediately lurched forward. Luckily for them both, Emma managed to keep him upright, only barely slipping as she did so.

“Bloody hell, you all right, love?”

“I’m fine, really,” she chuckled, pulling beside him so she could mirror his movements. “Okay, let’s fix your posture. Knees should be slightly bent, like this. And it’s not exactly like walking. You can take the blade a little off the surface, but you don’t want your whole foot to come up when you go forward. You wanna glide.”

“There seem to be a lot of rules.”

She didn’t laugh at his disgruntled tone, but it was a close thing. Instead, she eyed his form and took this as her opportunity to guide him in a more personal manner.

“Here,” she began, coming behind him and placing her hands on either side of his hips. She put just the slightest pressure on him, taking immense pleasure in this new position. “Loosen up. Keep your hips back just a little, and your torso just a tad forward. Legs should not be too far apart, and I probably don’t even need to say this, but don’t hunch forward. Your center of gravity is about at your navel, so everything needs to sort of balance across that line. ”

His posture almost immediately righted itself, and she released him in surprise when he took a few strides forward on his own.

“Oh. Love, I think I’ve got it now.”

She blinked a few times, skating up beside him and watching with awe as he continued forward almost effortlessly.

“Yeah… I guess you do,” she mumbled. “How’d you get it so fast?”

“Well once you explained it, I realized it’s not all that different from staying balanced aboard a rocking pirate ship in a storm.” Emma just frowned slightly at his natural talent. “Plus, I had a good teacher.”

Emma huffed and rolled her eyes, smiling anyway despite being more than a bit dismayed that she couldn’t just have this _one thing_  over him.

Although, as the afternoon wore on, she realized having someone who could keep up with her was pretty damn nice, too.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompt by anon: pleaseee could you write drabble, Emma saying to Killian “I didn’t know you could sing”

Emma has never really lived with a guy before. Well, she supposes that she and Neal did kind of live together in the Bug all those years ago, but this is different.

This is sharing a home.

And with that comes a few adjustments. Neither of them have ever owned very many possessions aside from their full wardrobes, but now they have this big house and it’s being slowly but surely filled with… things. Stuff. Books and trinkets on their shelves, an array of colorful toiletries and pretty things in their bathrooms, an admittedly overly stocked cabinet of alcohol, blankets and pillows meant not just for function but also for _decoration_.

She’s a bit disorganized and messy. Killian is kind of a neat freak after having run his own ship for so long.

She notices these things. He’ll pick up her mug from the coffee table and place a coaster beneath it, or gently maneuver the toes of her boots against the wall after she hastily kicks them off when arriving home after a long day. She tosses her jackets over various surfaces, like the dining chairs or the back of the couch, yet they always seem to find their way back to her closet or hanging from the coat rack in their entryway. He never tells her to do anything differently. He just silently trails behind her and cleans up the chaos she tends to leave in her wake.

She asked him about it once and he looked surprised. He hadn’t even noticed that he was doing it. It was simply habit.

He’s got a lot of those. Habits. For example, he washes the dishes immediately following a meal and doesn’t let them pile up in the sink. He takes showers that she can practically time to the second from the time she hears the pipes moan to the moment they silence. He only ever lingers longer if they’re sharing (in which case, the point is usually to get dirtier before getting clean) or if he’s opted for a long, relaxing bath, which he does like clockwork every two weeks. He always uses the same leather strap as a bookmark, and always returns the books to their rightful place on the shelf when finished. He even undresses in a methodical order – jacket on the coat rack, shoes against the wall, vest removed and hung, hook placed on their bedside table, then he removes his shirt and places it in the hamper, socks come off, then the jeans, then his brace goes, strap by strap, and finally (Emma always enjoys this last part) he takes off his underwear because he is rather fond of sleeping in the nude and she really has no complaints.

Killian is a picky eater and prefers to cook, which she is all too happy with since her skills in the kitchen amount to mediocre breakfasts and meals made from boxes with the instructions printed on the side. He cringes at prepackaged snacks, but nevertheless makes very few comments about her poor eating habits, instead merely providing her with the nutrients she needs when he takes over in the kitchen.

He always falls asleep after her, but wakes up before their alarm clock even rings, a skill she wishes she understood. Something about rising with the sun, he says. A sailor’s internal clock is quite reliable. It bothers her sometimes because it usually means that he’s up and out of bed before she awakens, and then she’s left mumbling to herself about the light shining through the windows on her face and the cold bed he’s left behind. Not always. Sometimes he watches her sleep in the early morning and when she finally opens her eyes, he’s there with the serene smile of a man in love, and she gets an extra hour in bed to cuddle into his arms or to be taken to the heights of pleasure with lazy morning sex.

She likes it. Knowing all these little things about him makes her ridiculously happy. More often than not, she basks in the knowledge that she knows Killian Jones better than anyone in the world, in _any_ world.

Which is why, sometimes, when she learns something new about him, it takes her completely by surprise.

It happens the morning after their engagement – their most recent engagement, that is. She’s still half-asleep, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets and _him_ when she hears a low, gentle hum. It’s a melody she’s unfamiliar with, but she imagines it’s some kind of calm sea shanty. Her head is tucked beneath his chin, his arms pleasantly tight around her back, and she can feel the way his chest vibrates with the pleasant sounds he’s making. She doesn’t move, barely breathes, as hum fades slowly into lyrics.

_Though my sails be torn and tattered_   
_and my mast be turned about_   
_let the night wind chill me to my very soul_   
_And though the spray might sting my eyes_   
_and the stars no light provide_   
_give me just another morning light to hold_

_For I will not lie me down, this rain a raging_   
_I will not lie me down in such a storm_   
_And if this night be unblessed, I shall not take my rest_   
_Until I reach another shore_

Definitely a song for sailors. It sounds a bit sad, but hopeful. She recalls the look of shock and relief on his face when she appeared there in Neverland to rescue him. It was so short a time ago that they were separated and she wondered if they would ever be together again.

They weathered that storm. They came out on the other side, weary and restless, but together. Always together.

He continues to sing and she continues to listen in quiet awe.

His singing voice is beautiful. Like, _beautiful_. It’s deep and a bit husky, and so soothing. How on earth this is the first time she’s hearing it, she has no idea. It makes her heart ache with longing, something she doesn’t really understand because she’s lying so fully against him.

“I know you’re awake. You’re too stiff to be sleeping.”

She startles and shifts at his words. When had the song finished? She wasn’t entirely ready for it to be over.

“I never knew you could sing like that,” she murmurs into his chest, feeling a bit self-conscious at the sleepy gravel she can hear in her own voice.

“Aye, well… It’s been a while.” She pushes back only far enough to lazily look up into his startlingly vivid blue eyes, reflecting the beams of light pouring in through the window. He smiles her favorite smile, and she leans up to kiss him gently. His nose nudges hers and he goes on. “Liam and I used to sing while we worked, first as servants, then as proper navy men. I didn’t do much of it after he died. Never really felt like I could listen to my own voice when he wasn’t singing along. Just felt empty.”

“And now?”

“Now…” He takes a slow, steady breath, a thoughtful sigh, really, and reaches over to grasp her hand in his. His fingertips run across her knuckles and over the ridges of the engagement ring on her fourth finger before he drags it to his mouth to press a kiss to it, smiling. “Clearly, I just can’t help myself, can I? I suppose that happens when you’re the happiest, luckiest man alive.”

She melts, kissing him several more times, giggling like the madly in love woman she is when he rolls over to lay above her. His face finds its way to her neck and she sighs and runs her hands along his shoulders as he hums against her skin. This time the tune _is_ familiar and she grins and sings along in her head.

 _I’m forever yours, faithfully_.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt by anon: Hi! I just read your fic of singing Killian and I LOVE it. Could you write something like him singing to his kid or something similar? I just can't get it out of my mind....

It’s three in the morning and Emma is so tired. Maggie’s crying, again, as babies tend to do, and Emma is trying really hard to get up, really. But her body is just so damn heavy, and she feels like she hasn’t had a decent night’s rest since they brought her home three weeks prior.

She hopes that her daughter’s wails will quiet on their own so she doesn’t have to move. It is her turn, after all, since Killian soothed her to sleep two hours ago.

But the seconds tick by and the longer she lies there, the guiltier she feels. She just wants to be selfish for one night, just this one night. It’s not that she doesn’t love Maggie more than life itself, or that she wishes to ignore her. She just needs sleep, more than she can ever remember needing sleep.

The bed shifts beside her and she hears the rough timbre of Killian’s voice, thick with exhaustion, and his words make her want to sob with relief.

“I’ll get her, love. Sleep.”

She can’t even manage to respond with any sense, just an almost whimper of an agreement. He kisses her head, lips buried in her hair for the briefest of moments, and then he leaves. She misses his warmth already but she can’t even open her eyes.

Maggie’s hysterical sobs seem to ease up as soon as Killian enters her nursery. She can hear through the baby monitor the way he calms her with words of reassurance. He is probably holding her right against his chest and rocking her from side to side. That’s one of his favorite things to do.

The cries get quieter and quieter, loud hiccups still punctuating her breaths, but only cease when Killian’s voice lilts out softly, soothingly, in a melodic lullaby. Maggie becomes silent. Moisture pricks behind Emma’s eyelids.

Emma has no doubt that she’s staring up at her father in wonder, mesmerized by his song, finally feeling safe and warm and loved. She feels guilty once again for not going to her first.

His voice fades as if someone has lowered the volume on the baby monitor, then grows stronger again, but this time it’s sharper and clearer than before. She realizes as the floorboards creak that he’s returned to their room, definitely with Maggie in his arms, and he’s still singing the low, steady tune.

The bed bows under the weight of him when he slips back under the covers and Emma peels her eyes open just long enough to blearily take in the image of Killian lying on his back and Maggie sprawled on his chest, her eyes shut.

Emma scoots closer and Killian’s arm automatically comes around her. She moves so her head is on his shoulder, and she brushes a kiss on Maggie’s forehead. All the while, Killian continues to sing.

The lullaby is just as much for her as for their daughter, she thinks, just before she slips back into her dreams.


End file.
